Timor Mortis
by We Run This
Summary: Chelsea has died seventeen times already. One more time shouldn't matter. But a staged tragedy and a shocking secret that nearly unravels the Avengers is just as complicated as it sounds.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is my first Avengers fanfic, and I've been seized by my muse. I basically have the first four chapters of this story done but I wanted to wait to see if there is any interest. That means review! I have exams coming up, so updating may be a bit sporadic, but once those are updates should be pretty regular. Enjoy!**

oOo

Timor mortis morte pejor.

_The fear of death is worse than death._

-Robert Burton

oOo

There was a common misconception among her friends that Chelsea couldn't die. After all, they had seen her wake after a bullet in her chest, after being crushed by an SUV, after falling of a building. It may take a minute for her to recover, sure, but she hadn't died yet.

They were wrong.

The problem wasn't that Chelsea couldn't die. No; in fact, at the time of this story she had died seventeen times. The problem was that she didn't stay dead.

The thing people seemed to forget about was that the only way to find if you're immortal is to die.

She had been thirteen when it happened. Swimming in the lake behind her house, she had foolishly dived off the dock. She didn't hit her head- the water was too deep for that. No, she coasted along the sandy, mushy bottom, oblivious to the debris that littered the lake. She kicked off, prepared to surface. A searing pain tore through her calf. She screamed, bubbles exploding from her mouth. Panicked, she kicked desperately for the surface, only for the wire sunk into her leg to hold her back. Chelsea struggled to free herself, but she was in pain and drowning and her thoughts were hazy and red. Within a minute from becoming ensnared she was unconscious. Within three, she was dead.

She woke up in a coffin. She didn't immediately recognize it was a coffin, of course, but that knowledge came soon enough. She was in a small, dark place. The walls were silken. She couldn't lift her arms above her head or very far in front of her. Vaguely, she remembered the lake, and terror seized her. She was in a coffin. She was supposed to be dead.

But she was buried alive.

She screamed, and it rebounded off the walls and deafened her. She struck the box in front of her and scratched the lining and kicked and elbowed until she was bruised all over and she could taste blood on her fingertips. Eventually, she tired herself out. Taking stock, she wriggled as much as she could, hoping desperately for anything that could help her. Her hair was down, and a barrette was cutting into her scalp. She was wearing a chain with a small pendant, and a ring was on her left hand. She was wearing a push-up bra, uncomfortable and itchy. Her favorite dress, the cotton flowered one, was on her, and she could feel strappy shoes that she didn't recognize on her feet. Other than that, the coffin was empty. She could see nothing. She was dimly aware that her breaths seemed loud and ragged in the small space.

Chelsea died once again in the coffin, this time due to the lack of oxygen. This time was worse, though. It wasn't a restful sleep like before, but a kind of paralysis in which no stimuli reached her but she was painfully aware. She lay, caked in her own body, seeing and hearing and feeling nothing, both hoping desperately to wake but dreading the terror of the coffin.

Drearily, slowly, she was aware of the pain in her neck where her head was supported awkwardly by the pillow and the burning itch of the bra on her back. She was alive.

The blackness seemed to mock her. It occurred to her that maybe she was dead after all, and this was her special kind of hell. Praying didn't seem to help.

On the third day (not that Chelsea was aware of time), she felt her small world shift. The coffin moved, jerked, and then vibrations coursed through it and light streamed in. She clenched her eyes tightly, but blindly reached out. Hands grabbed hers and an arm wrapped around her waist and helped her stand. She was sobbing now, relief making her shake, sinking to the ground and yanking off those stupid sandals and stretching. She tried to open her eyes, but found that the sun made spots in her vision and her head swam. Someone placed a pair of sunglasses gently on her nose, and she opened her eyes cautiously. A man stood before her. He smiled and stuck a palm out for her to shake.

"Chelsea Summers. We have a lot of talking to do."


	2. Chapter 2

So that's how Chelsea ended up here, in a massive apartment complex owned by the man, who had introduced himself only as James. No one seemed to know his last name. He had explained to her that, legally speaking, she was dead. Returning to her family and her small town was not an option. They would arrest her, he said, and lock her up and experiment on her. If she wanted, though, she could stay at his headquarters. Two other children lived there, who were special like her, and she could leave anytime she wanted to. And Chelsea, thirteen years old, fresh out of the most horrifying experience of her life, desperate for a friendly face, ignored everything anyone had ever told her about stranger danger and accepted.

As if he sensed her misgivings, James immediately introduced her to the other children at the complex. Ellie was a year or so younger than her, with dark hair and blue eyes and the ability to solidify the matter around her into a sort of indestructible force field. Drew, two years Chelsea's senior, had a dark complexion and the ability to absorb kinetic energy, magnify it, and channel it into whatever the hell he wanted. (Chelsea, in case you forgot, was thirteen, with blonde hair and brown eyes and the ability to get shot in the head and wake up good as new.)

It was three years after her Incident (as Chelsea had taken to calling Death #1) when James approached her. The Avengers had been all over the front page of every major newspaper in the world, and he wasn't happy about. He told her of his plan, and had it been any other time in her life, she likely would have said no. But lately Drew had drifted away to pursue normal-people friends, and Ellie, while still steadfastly Ellie, was slaving away on her physics thesis (a sore point for Chelsea, as a small part of her still clung to the belief that someone younger cannot also be someone smarter), and lately she had been feeling generally bitter about everything. So she accepted, and swelled with pride when James smiled and thanked her.

oOo

Later, when she told Ellie about it, the act in question had lost some of its appeal. But Ellie smiled and congratulated her and asked for details, and Chelsea was happy with her choice again.

"He said I'd have to die my hair or something, for a distinguishing feature. Then when Captain America does the shield-throwing thing you'll redirect it and it'll hit me. And then you or Drew- he said he's not sure who yet- will push Hulk towards me and hopefully he'll kill me."

"And if he doesn't?" Ellie interjected, brow furrowed in concentration.

"Then you can step in and break my neck," Chelsea replied. "You'll shield yourself from the battle until it's done, and then you'll burst out and scream and sob- really dramatic, to make them guilty."

Ellie nodded, a smile spreading slowly across her face. "So that's what James wants- guilt."

oOo

Natasha smirked slightly as she leapt into the air, kicking forward and incapacitating two of the bizarre creatures in front of her. Jumping backwards, she landed effortlessly on the hood of a Honda and drew her guns. Bullets flew through the air, and more Creatures went down. She heard a grunt behind her and turned to see Thor simultaneously swinging his hammer and decimating one of the massive, tank-like ships. High above them, Tony was weaving through buildings, taking out Creatures with mini-missiles and lasers, and Clint was firing arrow after arrow. Her smile turned into a full out grin as the Hulk smashed. A few more minutes and they would be victorious-

She whirled as she heard a scream.

A Creature was dragging a struggling girl out from a crushed car. She was bleeding from a gash on her cheek, and more blood was seeping from her hairline.

Her hair was bubblegum pink.

The girl was fighting weakly, obviously in pain. She clawed at the Creature, shrieking, though whether from pain or fear Natasha couldn't tell. Out of the corner of her eye, Natasha saw Steve throw his shield.

oOo

Ellie held her breath. Carefully, she adjusted her force field. _Careful, careful, not too fast or it'll rebound; every action has an equal and opposite… nonono, towards HER, stupid shield, gogogogogo! Yes!_

Smirking slightly, she withdrew into the shadows.

oOo

The shield hit Chelsea in the chest. She cried out as she felt several ribs snap from the force. The Creature dropped her, and she crumbled on the ground, holding her middle. Tears streamed down her face. Screwing up her face, she waited for the Hulk to come and crush her death.

oOo

Ellie stood, palms outstretched, as she did her best to force the Hulk to Chelsea. Concentrating, she didn't notice the Creature that stood on the roof of the building behind her. She didn't notice Ironman releasing a small bomb. She didn't notice it as the Creature jumped and the heat-seeking bomb fell with it. All she noticed was the earth-shattering explosion and the wall of building that cascaded towards her. In a nanosecond, her shields were up, protecting her. Remembering suddenly, she turned toward Chelsea. The last thing she did before she was buried in rock was break her best friend's neck.

**A/N: UPDATE! I told you my muse was partyin'. I'm so happy about the amount of attention this fic has already received, although I must say that there is dramatic disparity between the number of readers/story alerts and the number of reviews. Come on people! You can do it! Updates to come.**


	3. Chapter 3

Steve buried his head in his hands. He had killed a civilian- a girl. He thought miserably of the way his shield had gone off course, how he could practically hear the snap of ribs breaking, her cry of pain. And then the building exploded. If he hadn't thrown his shield she would have been able to run, but instead she was buried by the rubble. The Creatures had been defeated, and the girl was pulled out of the rubble with a broken neck and no pulse. Dead.

Around him, his fellow Avengers were being debriefed. Agent Malloy was speaking to him, but Steve was far too entrenched in his thoughts.

"Captain Rogers? Captain!"

Steve jerked and stood shakily up from his seat at the conference table. "I just…need a minute." He turned and exited, feeling the others' eyes on him. He went to his quarters and changed out of his uniform, then made his way to the training rooms to swing at punching bags.

oOo

Ellie waited nearly an hour before daring to attempt to dig out of her prison. If S.H.I.E.L.D. knew about her powers- she shook off the thought and concentrated on expanding her fields, slowly and steadily. She had been facing Chelsea when she was buried, but in the time she waited she had turned and now had no idea which direction she was pointing. It was pitch black and the rocks outside her fields offered no distinguishing features to help her navigate. Eventually deciding that she might as well go straight, she pushed, somewhat hesitantly, with her mind. The rock was heavy and was extremely difficult to move. She turned 180 degrees and tried again. The rock seemed to offer less resistance. She continued expanding her shields, stepping forward as she made space for herself and allowing the rubble behind her to cave in.

After some time, Ellie emerged from the building. Several civilians screamed, and at least one whipped out a cell phone. A policeman, one of many that were patrolling the area, aimed a gun at her. Cursing under her breath, Ellie raised a shield and looked frantically for Chelsea. She was nowhere to be found.

oOo

Bruce stepped quietly into the training room. Cap was standing in the center, sweaty and panting, his arms hanging limply by his arms. He turned slightly when Bruce entered, but then his eyes unfocused again. Bruce cleared his throat.

"It gets better. Not a lot better, but better."

Steve turned, eyes dull. "It was my fault. I killed a girl. How can it get better?" His arms spasmed suddenly, fists clenching and muscles taut.

"You didn't kill her. The broken neck was no one's fault. I know you're not going to listen to me, but believe me when I say I know how you feel."

Steve nodded dumbly, but turned away. Bruce walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder. "It wasn't anybody's fault. But you should talk to Tony."

Steve looked perplexed at this. "Why? What happened?" Bruce sighed.

"It was his bomb that leveled the builiding. He's in his lab, and it's safe to say he's drinking. You should go talk."

Cap nodded and went to see Tony.

oOo

Aggressive music was faintly audible, even through the heavy metal of the door to the lab. Steve knocked once, decided Tony couldn't possibly hear him, and entered. The music increased in volume. Tony was in the center of what appeared to be a cocoon of copper wires, various tools, Dummy, a large sheet of some sort of alloy, and whiskey. Consequentially, he did not notice Steve enter.

"Tony." There was no response.

"Tony!" Still nothing.

"TONY!" Tony blinked up at him, and grudgingly turned down the music. He looked expectantly at Cap. "Yes?"

Steve shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. "It wasn't your fault. The-" he took a breath- "civilian. The girl."

Tony snorted. "I know it wasn't. It wasn't. It was the Creatures."

Steve can tell he's lying. "It was the Creatures," he parrots. The words sound hollow and fake. He sits on a sort of metal and leather desk chair that seems to have a small rocket attached to the back. Tony looks at him strangely, hollowly.

"Yeah," he says, "the Creatures."

oOo

Chelsea tries to stay asleep (ok, dead) for as long as possible, but she finds that he task is significantly harder than she thought. In the past, she had always pushed to wake up. But this time, she has to sleep until Ellie gets her safely away from the battleground. Otherwise the entire mission would be a failure, and James- no, she wouldn't think about it the mission wouldn't fail, everything would be fine. Concentrating, she focused on her body. She had to control every nerve, every muscle fiber, every cell and atom lest she move and jeopardize the mission.

She would have sighed with relief if she had a body. She felt nothing, no twitch or stirring that signified her return to life. She lay that way for a long time, unaware of the agents removing her body from the rubble, of the trip back to the helicarrier, of the fingerprint and DNA samples that were taken in an attempt to identify her.

oOo

The S.H.I.E.L.D. technicians had been working on identifying the girl for several hours, but were so far unsuccessful. No matching DNA or fingerprints were registered in the system, as the girl had evidently not had a criminal record. In desperation, one of the interns suggested taking impressions and x-rays of the girl's teeth so they could cross-reference them for matches.

Bingo.

The head of the medical staff leaned forward, eager to have a name for the body lying on the examination table. Yes, the dental records matched; they'd found their girl. Chelsea Summers, age 13, deceased-

The head blinked, once, twice. He reread the form. Then, brow furrowed, he asked the interns for the phone.

oOo

Feeling was starting to return to her. She could feel cold metal on her back. Her face stung slightly where the cut near her hairline had been, but that was probably nearly healed. Chelsea kept her eyes shut, though she itched to open them and see where she was. Better to make sure she was back with James and Ellie first, though. She lay still and waited. There was at least one other person in the room, a man whose voice she didn't recognize.

"-three years ago, she drowned in a lake. She's buried and everything… I'm telling you, either your system is wrong or this girl's a zombie."

She tensed. She was not with James and Ellie. She had been taken by someone, and now she was on a medical table and he knew who she was. It was time to act.

As soon as she heard the phone click back into its cradle, she sprang up. Chelsea pushed forcefully into the man's back. He had been leaning in towards the monitor, and her push drove him forward. He fell heavily onto the desk, having slammed his head into the screen. Backing away, Chelsea jerked around and ran, slipping through the door. Behind her, she heard people shouting. When that failed to stop her, they gave chase. She sprinted down the hallways, occasionally turning suddenly, searching desperately for a door outside.

"Get Agent Barton!" she heard someone shout, and her blood ran cold. Hawkeye. So she was somewhere within S.H.I.E.L.D.

She ducked behind a door, watching as several people sprinted past. She had to find Captain America, or perhaps Bruce Banner. James had told her before she started that she was to seek them out if anything were to go wrong. The soldier thought he'd killed her. He wouldn't want any more harm to befall her, and certainly not at the hands of his own organization. And Bruce Banner was a civilian, who was already skeptical of S.H.I.E.L.D. and who wouldn't let them touch her. Chelsea was scared. She was terrified of pain, of agony before she died, of suffering horribly before her heart gave out. And she was afraid of the death itself, of the horrible stifled feeling of being awake and unable to move.

Vaguely, she thought of her parents, and how they almost certainly wouldn't approve of what she was doing.

She printed back out from behind the door, dashing towards what seemed to be wing full of labs. An arrow pierced the cloth of her shirt, stopping her motion and effectively pinning her to the wall. Hawkeye. She clawed at it, but it was embedded in the wall and she couldn't remove it. The shouting behind her grew louder. Finally, she simply ripped at her shirt and continued running. She saw, through a glass door, Tony Stark (easily recognizable by the media coverage of everything he did). She burst through the door, only to stumble over the small step down she hadn't noticed. She recognized Bruce Banner, and another scientist she didn't know. Jerking frantically around, genuinely afraid of the archer (Would an arrow kill her? Or would she have to lie there, in pain, until she bled out?), she scuttled back on her hands and butt. Several men (not Hawkeye, thank god) burst in, guns leveled on her. She looked back at Dr. Banner, terrified, and squeaked, "Don't let them hurt me!

**A/N: Chapter 3! Sorry for the cliffhanger. I could be studying for exams, but you got this chapter instead! If anything is unclear, PLEASE pm me or ask in your review. Reviews and constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!**

**Clarification: Chelsea's death in the lake was Death number 1. In the coffin was death number 2. She died seventeen times total (15 more times) before this story started. Her death at Ellie's hands was death number 18.**

**Clarification 2: Chelsea is 16. The medical guy is just reading from her file, last updated when she was 13.**


	4. Chapter 4

Bruce stepped in front of Chelsea, hand held up as if to convey his harmlessness. He looked a bit angry, and Chelsea felt a shiver of fear. Just because she couldn't die didn't mean she wanted to see the man Hulk out. He stared menacingly at the men pointing guns at her.  
"Ok," he said, and took a deep breath, "Ok. What's going on?"

The one in front coughed and put down his gun sheepishly. He opened his mouth to answer, but Tony beat him to it.

"You're the girl that died in the explosion." He said it confidently, probably recognizing her violently pink hair. She nodded shakily.

"I- those things- I was in the room, and then- then- arrows!" She had started speaking with the intention of acting hysterical, but as the adrenaline wore off, she found that it wasn't really an act.

Tony looked mystified. "Ok. Bruce, you deal with this. I'm gonna go…do…something else." He made to leave, but Bruce stared him down. Tony sighed, ran his hand through his disheveled hair, and sat heavily on a stool. "Fine, fine, I'm staying."

Bruce glared at the men. They had all lowered their weapons by now, and looked distinctly embarrassed at having chased a dead girl through a government facility with guns.

"I'm taking care of this," Bruce said firmly, and they stumbled over one another in their rush to leave. Tony raised an eyebrow.

"Impressive. Who knew gentle little Brucey could be so commanding?"

Bruce chose not to answer, instead looking pointedly down at Chelsea, who was shaking violently on the floor. He crouched, so he was eye level with her.

"I'm Bruce. What's your name?"

Chelsea's spoke in a tremulous voice. "I'm Chelsea."

"What happened?"

"I was in the building with my friends, and then those things attacked and I think I broke my ribs. Then there was an explosion-"

Tony coughed sheepishly.

"-and something hit me. I woke up on a hospital bed and I was scared. So I left and then people were chasing me and someone shot an arrow through my shirt."

She fingered the torn back of her shirt ruefully. "I liked this shirt."

"And then?"

"And then I ran in here."

Bruce nodded. He seemed to accept the fact that Chelsea had risen from the dead fairly easily.

"Has this happened before? The dying thing?"

Chelsea blushed deeply. "Yes?"

Bruce frowned thoughtfully. Tony took the opportunity to intervene.

"How does that work? Don't your organs start to decay? Your brain would deteriorate without blood flow, and you definitely didn't have a pulse, Jarvis said so. And you're not even a little bit brain-damaged! I can't wait to run some te-"

Bruce held up a hand, effectively silencing Tony.

"You're not running tests on a teenage girl." Tony started to protest, but evidently thought better of it.

Bruce reached for a phone. He made a call to someone called Fury while Chelsea got her shit together. She had to be prepared if she was going to field questions from government spies. She thought of the advice James had given her. Say as much of the truth as you can. Don't be afraid to give personal details. Humanize yourself.

She jumped a little as she realized Bruce was speaking to her.

"-Fury'll be down in a minute with the other Avengers. I guess we should call your parents-"

"No!" Chelsea may have shouted a little bit. Bruce frowned at her.

"It's just that, um, this wasn't exactly my first time dying, and my parents don't know that I'm alive."

"Why didn't you go back to your parents?" This came from a black man in a long trench coat. An eye patch covered one eye but did not conceal the scar running through it. "Nick Fury."

"Chelsea Summers. I was afraid they would hate me. They're not really that…tolerant towards mutants."

This was a blatant lie, buts she didn't need to tell Fury anything. He nodded once.

"Ok. Age?"

"Sixteen."

"Birthday?"

"November 21."

"How'd you die the first time?"

Chelsea shivered. "I drowned."

Fury nodded. "What you've told me so far checks out. But you are staying here until we get more information on you."

Bruce made to protest, but Fury fixed him with a hard stare. "She can't die. Not only is she a potential threat, she is also a target. Are you willing to consent to testing?"

Chelsea nodded. "Not all testing. But maybe some."

"Agreed. Now we should probably tell the others you're not dead."

oOo

Chelsea walked next to Tony as they made their way upstairs. They had given her sweatpants and a t-shirt to replace the one Hawkeye had destroyed. He was chattering excitedly at her.

"What's your blood type? Are your parents mutants? I'll admit, genetics isn't really my area of expertise, but I can totally make an exception!"

He stopped abruptly as they entered the conference room. Natasha, Clint, Steve, and Thor were all sitting inside, staring at them. Well, Steve and Thor were staring at them. Clint was looking at her guiltily. Natasha may have been surprised, but since her default face was a mask of cool indifference it was impossible to tell. They stood awkwardly in the doorway for a moment, and then Thor stood up and embraced her, lifting her several inches off the ground.

"I am most pleased to see you not dead!" Thor boomed. Chelsea squeaked. Natasha looked amused.

"Thor, put her down. She's probably running out of air."

Thor dropped her immediately and stooped to peer at her worriedly. "I am most sorry! I did not mean to cause you any harm, child!"

"Um. That's okay."

Bruce cleared his throat and looked sternly at Clint, who stood up, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry I shot at you. I guess."

Chelsea grinned good-naturedly. "That's ok. I guess."

Steve was still staring at her, and she could feel a blush creeping along her cheeks. Natasha, thankfully, seemed to notice, and managed to order everyone out without actually doing anything. When they were alone, Steve spoke.

"I thought I'd killed you. I apologize. I threw my shield, and I didn't think about the consequences. I –"

Chelsea smiled. The plan had worked, at least until they had failed to retrieve her body.

"It's ok. I'm fine. You just have to be more careful next time."

She saw him clench his fists, and smirked inwardly. She could still salvage the mission. She just had to guilt it up until her friends came to rescue her.

oOo

Ellie winced as James shouted at her. She hadn't even bothered to explain what had happened. A failure was a failure was a failure. Drew stood in the doorway, gazing sympathetically in.

James snarled at her. "Drew and I will lead a team to take control of the helicarrier. And you, Ellie, are going to work on the containment fields until they are complete. No breaks. I want them ready by the time we subdue the Avengers."

Ellie nodded wordlessly.

"Once you're done those, you need to figure out Stark's arc reactor. We both know palladium wouldn't sustain him, and you are going to figure what he's using and how to harness it."

Ellie bit her lip, but nodded again. She wouldn't be able to start working on the arc reactor until she had Stark's notes. She was brilliant, yes, but she didn't hold a candle to Tony Stark. With his notes and technology, though…

Ellie smiled tightly and got to work.

**A/N: Ok, people. The amount of story alerts/favorite stories/hits are NOT COMPATIBLE with the couple reviews I got for last chapter. PRETTY PLEASE REVIEW! I love to hear your thoughts! Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!**

**(shameless, I know): I have just published another Avengers fic called Conspiracy. Please check it out!**


	5. Chapter 5

James smirked slightly at Drew as he finished his report. Drew was smart, he thought, and exceptionally skilled in the field of military tactics. With his plans, they'd be able to seize the helicarrier with relative ease. It was a simple matter of infiltration. Under normal circumstances, Ellie would've been the one to reunite with Chelsea and set up the containment units. After her poor performance in the last mission, however, James couldn't risk it. Drew would have to fill in.

T minus three days and counting. Then the Avengers would be his.

oOo

Chelsea laughed as Steve told her about Bucky and the hijinks they would get up to as children. It seemed even stiff, proper Captain America had a sense of humor. She had found over the last two days that it was impossible not to like him. She knew he was the enemy, and she _knew _that ultimately, James would come and get her and bring her home. But despite all her efforts to stay cold and distant, she found herself slowly but surely developing a sort of trust.

Natasha she was still wary of, but as the only other female who didn't have massive amounts of paperwork to attend to at all times, Fury had hastily assigned her to helping Chelsea with any and all… feminine needs. Clothes, hygiene products, undergarments. Natasha had handled it with a sort of aloof efficiency, but Chelsea rather thought her eyes had twinkled at the look on Fury's face when Chelsea had informed him, matter-of-factly, that she needed a bra.

Dr. Banner still watched her with a sort of protective intensity. She appreciated it, and decided that she kind of liked his quiet, sheepish demeanor.

Tony Stark was an absolute ass, but a ridiculously funny one. The constant questions about her mutation grew tiresome almost immediately, but the banter he exchanged with Hawkeye entertained her enough that she was able to forgive him.

Hawkeye was a mystery. Half the time he was an active, enthusiastic participant in the general snark. The other half he was utterly absent (hiding in the vents, Tony said, gesturing vaguely to the ceiling). She didn't know what to make of him.

Thor was like a huge, loud foreigner. Scratch that, he _was _a huge, loud foreigner. He had a complicated relationship with society. He didn't seem to understand any idioms or slang, but he loved pop tarts and coffee and somehow knew all the words to the kind of pop songs that Ellie used to love before James had forbidden them (on the grounds that they were fucking annoying). Apparently, he also had a tendency to sleep completely naked. Chelsea knew this because of the Incident and the very long and in-depth memo that had followed.

Chelsea spent the most time by far with Bruce and Tony, hoping to gain information. Her plan wasn't working. If Ellie, or even Drew, had been there, they might have actually understood some of the technobabble and been able to retain it. It may as well have been Finnish for all Chelsea understood. She had undergone several tests since she'd arrived. Blood had been taken, she'd had an MRI and a CAT scan, and she'd also had to answer a comprehensive questionnaire about her abilities. She had decided to be honest, lest they catch her in a lie somehow before she could escape.

It had been several days after her "death", and Chelsea was getting restless. Steve seemed to notice, and apparently had spoken to Tony about it, because they had offered to take her down to New York for a while to go to a museum. Well, no. Steve had offered. Tony had given them permission to use his plane to leave the helicarrier. The helicarrier had been shock. She knew about it, sure. James had thoroughly briefed her before the mission. But _being_ up there, in the air, flying, was nothing short of incredible.

Anyway. She and Steve were now walking through MOMA, looking at the various paintings. They (Chelsea) had then used Tony's endless supply of money to get lots and lots of things at the freaking fantastic gift shop.

And then she heard it: "Chelsea?"

Her heart leapt. She turned and barely glimpsed Drew, all dark hair and smart glasses and grin, before he was crushing her in a hug. She wasn't sure what to make of this. She and Drew were friends, sure, and she trusted him. But he had been allowed off-base when she and Ellie hadn't. Whether because of his age or his general competence, she didn't know, but he had friends that she didn't know and probably never would. That combined with their age difference had always driven her more to Ellie than Drew. She smiled back at him regardless, and ignored the tight feeling in her chest when he leaned his head close and whispered.

"Infiltration. Boyfriend. Stay cool."

She nodded, almost imperceptibly. Taking his hand and squeezing it, she turned to a bemused Steve.

"Steve, this is my boyfriend. Drew, Steve." She leaned in discreetly. "He knows about my thing."

Steve nodded and smiled, shaking hands with Drew. They continued walking around the museum for an hour or so, Drew and Chelsea holding hands and Steve hanging back, polite but distinctly uncomfortable. At six, Steve cleared his throat.

'Chelsea, we have to get back. Tony's sending someone to pick us up."

Chelsea let her face fall. "Oh. Um, okay. But-," she glanced hesitantly at Drew, "can he come with us?"

Steve shifted. "Well, I'm not sure that would be a good idea. I don't have clearance to-"

"It's okay," Chelsea mumbled sadly, eyes downcast, "it's just, I haven't seen anyone I know in ages, and I was hoping…"

"I wish I could let him, but…" Steve started, but Drew held up a hand.

"It's fine. I'll see you, Chelsea. My number's still the same. Can we just have a minute to say goodbye?"

Steve nodded, obviously relieved. "Of course."

Drew pulled her to the side and into a hug.

"Take my bag with you. You'll have to set up the containment field. The instructions are in there somewhere. Text us when you're finished. We'll be there."

Chelsea nodded and slipped the messenger bag from his shoulder to hers. She couldn't help squeaking slightly when he pulled her into a chaste kiss. They hugged again, and Drew departed. Taking a deep breath, she walked back to Steve.

"Ok. I'm ready."

oOo

Chelsea did exactly as Ellie's instructions said. She had set up the fields in the half of the lab that Tony and Bruce used for larger scale, potentially dangerous experiments. After the last one most of the furniture had been removed from that half in an attempt to save it from fire/chemical/water damage. Ellie's technology would surround that area with a containment field very similar to her own force fields (which, Chelsea reflected, were very similar to Cap's shield). The plan was to summon the team to the helicarrier. Ellie and Drew would be able to get successfully on board. Then Ellie would manhandle the Avengers into the field and activate it. They'd be essentially trapped. Thor and Steve couldn't break through. Natasha, Clint, and Tony couldn't do much without a weapon. And Banner would have to control himself or risk hurting his teammates. She just had to make sure they couldn't get their hands on anything. She smiled slightly, pulled out the phone, and texted Drew. _Finished._

"What are you doing in here?"

Chelsea whirled, and did the first thing that came to her mind. She started crying. Tony Stark, genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, was at a loss. She heard him hastily call Bruce, who stumbled in and crouched before her.

"What's wrong?"

She sniffed loudly and rubbed at her eyes.

"St-Steve and I saw my boyfriend at the mu-museum, and I w-was just thinking about my fr-friends and Ellie would l-love your lab and I…I."

She buried her face in Bruce's shoulder, ignoring Tony's completely lost expression.

Then something _boomed _and a tremor shook the helicarrier.

**A/N: Ok, people, this is getting ridiculous. I may be forced to withhold a chapter until I get some FEEDBACK! I'm a review whore, I fully admit, and admitting you have a problem is the first step. The next chapter **_**should **_**be out in a few days. (I'd like some reviews, that's all I'm saying). Big confrontation next chapter! Hope you enjoyed!**


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